Possession
by I-am-The-Mathgoth
Summary: Judy Marko gets haunted by the Ghost with the Most and sent on a mission to find a lost goth girl...chap 2 up. Rating for the bad words. Read and Review!
1. Gothier than Thou

The first change was my curtains. One day, I decided the sun was giving me a headache and closed them for the first time since I had moved into the dorm some three weeks back. Then I just forgot to open them again.

I stopped going to the salon; my skin lost the glow of years on top of tanning beds, and I didn't care. I painted my eyes with heavy black eyeliner. I bleached my already-chemically processed hair white. I threw my Gap jeans out and replaced them with thrift-store finds, black jeans and skirts.

It wasn't until one night, amid the desperate flickering candles, laying another coat of black polish over my left-hand fingernails; I sat back and realized that I wasn't me anymore. I fingered my silver ankh necklace that I had picked up the week before, before I even knew that an ankh was. I picked it because it caught my eye. Because when I saw it, all I could do was imagine the silver shining over the deep black of my shirt.

Suddenly, I was a very different person than I had been a month before.

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"Gross," was the verdict. I sighed into the mirror, ashamed at how much I liked my reflection. My eyeliner had run when I washed out the bleach; it streamed down my face in thick black rivers. At least, my right eye did. My left was smudged nearly to my ear. I had never felt so sexy in my own bathroom back home.

"You don't like it?" I asked, surprised at the sarcasm I heard in my voice.

"You look…not very flattering. Different. I don't think it's your color."

Shane picked at her nails nervously, dying on the inside. She wanted to throw a shoe, an expensive fling-back with an expensive brand and a lot of weight, at my head and tell me to stop being so childish. I saw the eerie sort of desperation in her eyes. She was actually afraid of what I wanted to do to myself next.

I shook out my new hair; the color was paler than anything I had ever been before. Much different than the chestnut brown I had eradicated anyway. It made my fading tan look all the more pasty and sick.

"I look mysterious," I said after a moment's thought, "very…vampy."

""Yeah," Shane said in a sad way, "you do look like a vampire. That you do…" she trailed off. "

"Well, I like it," I decided. Then, to ease the shock creeping onto Shane's carefully painted features, I added, "And anyway, I have to wait if I want to dye it back."

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I didn't for once think the problem was with my room. It had plain white walls and blue curtains. It had a small, twin-sized bed with a very expensive mattress that my mom gave me before I left home. She had said that a good mattress was something worth the money, because a good sleep was invaluable.

My desk was white too, a cheap white-washed particle-board piece of junk that the school gave me. It had two drawers that smelled like glue. I kept some blank notebook paper and my diary in them, until I got sick of seeing the same shit written over and over in delicate, neat black pen, with flowers dotting my i's. I flipped through the book, re-reading sickeningly sweet, mushy paragraphs about unicorns and Barbie's. Then I threw it across the room and watched it shatter like glass into a million pages and litter my floor in a confetti of shallow problem and boy troubles.

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"Friggin goth," Michael told me one morning, "you look like crap babe. What the hell happened?" I leaned sleepily against the doorframe, half-closing the door to hide the gleam of candles, the oujia board on my floor, the smell of thick, smoky incense. I knew I looked like crap; I was half asleep, with my damaged hair in a pony tail, in a black scream-o band t-shirt and a pair of pink lacey panties. School was not an option for me. Not today. I had just gone to sleep!

"Mmm-ff." I said, tasting the plaque on my teeth, the dried saliva on my lips. Michael looked beyond horrified. He had never seen me without makeup before.

"Uh…why don't I like…catch up with you later?" He said, flustered. "When you're like…awake."

"Yup," I said, hoping my breath didn't travel far enough to disgust him. He was already backing up a little, staring at my bruised eye sockets. I didn't wait for him to turn and leave; I shut the door and slipped back into my expensive mattress. Somewhere across the room, I heard a short cackle of laughter. It died away and I fell asleep.

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I had two classes on Wednesday; English and Cultural Studies. I showed up to English sans makeup, wearing only a t-shirt with no bra, and a pair of my oldest jeans, a pair I kept for sentimental value. They were torn to the point of almost non-existing. I left my hair in the ponytail. I didn't even have my compact mirror.

"Oh my God," Shane said when I slipped into my seat, hunched and exhausted, "are you okay? Are you sick? You do not look good."

"I'm tired," I explained, "I didn't feel like…it." I couldn't bring myself to call my morning ritual "dressing up". I also didn't want to imply I didn't want to make the effort to look good. Even now, I felt it was a horrible sin, sloth, to continue existing like this. I could tell Shane didn't get it. She watched me for a second, mouth slightly open, fingering her pearl necklace, then turned away and ignored me, though kindly, until class was over. I slunk back into my dorm without waiting for her to say anything.

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That night, I reached the climax of my transformation.

I put down my CD player blaring Rob Zombie and walked across the room to the mirror mounted on my closet door. My plan was to pull out a pair of pajamas and my robe, but when my reflection slinked in front of me, I realized it wasn't me.

Not metaphorically; I was used to seeing the pale, thin, gaunt figure every morning. What I saw was something completely different. In fact, for a second, I could only stare and assess. Blond hair, dull and looking as though it was dusted with ashes. Deep, round eyes with deep shadows that looked as though there were pushed too far into its head. A grinning mouth with yellow, broken teeth. It waved at me, showing off fingers as grey as its skin, tinged at the tips with the color of a bruise. A black and white suit.

I shut my eyes and didn't let myself open them again until I was sure with every fiber of my being that what I was seeing wasn't real. I stood, breathing carefully, pushing the image out of my head. When I opened my eyes again I said aloud, I would see my own reflection. I would see Judith Ann Marko, tanned and golden and beautiful.

"What's-a matter, Judes," said the thing in my mirror, "Never seen a ghost before?"


	2. 20 Questions

_Whoo. Hoo-ray for ghosties."_

* * *

I didn't know what to do. I was shocked. I mean, I was legitimately confused for a second, thinking that maybe I was in a dream, a lucid one. I remembered how they say you never know when you are dreaming, but you always know that you are awake.

So I did the first thing that came to my mind; I dropped to the floor, hard, and landed on my butt. I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it when I couldn't think of anything adequate to say. I opened it again, determined to say anything, but closed it. I must have looked like a fish who jumped out of the fishbowl.

"I like what ya've done with the place," said the creature in the mirror. It pressed its grey face up to the glass, or other side of the mirror, whatever, and clapped it hands on either side of its face, as though trying to reduce some imaginary glare.

"Aah..." I said stupidly, still on the floor, looking up at the thing.

"It's really, uh, homey," it continued casually, "and I tell ya, two months back, this place was a _real_ mess, ya know? Like some cheery, chirpy little hellhole."

"You...you're real." I stated.

The creature dropped it gaze down to me and grinned with a mouth full of chipped, half rotted teeth.

"Ya know, you really changed up this place, and your wearing black like the gothiest of 'em, but ya can't shake that natural blonde stupidity," he said, "Ya can't fix stupid." He cackled at his own joke. The realization that he had made a reference to a joke from the present time confused me even more.

"Uh...okay," I took a deep breath and counted to ten. The thing watched me patiently, for a while, then dropped down too, crossing its legs and hanging its head on his hands, with its elbows resting on its knees.

"You awfully cute for a, ya know...still-alive-and-breathin' person, but as bright as a box o' hammers."

"I...am sorry," I spoke carefully, marveling at the sound of my own voice, "but this...has never happened to me before."

"Aw man," the thing said, rolling its eyes skyward, "I bin usin' the same line, but they don't buy it. I am D-E-A-D, and that's...that's a real bitch."

"Then...you are a...ghost?"

"I prefer 'mortally impaired', or 'living challenged'."

"Okay," I closed eyes again and collected my thoughts. "Okay so...so...why are you here?"

It shrugged at me and shook its head, not so much in the I-don't-know way, but more like he didn't want to tell me."

"So uh, then...why are you in my mirror?"

"That's how I _always_ talk to you living people." He knocked on the glass from his side. His image distorted and shook.

"Oh," I said, noting the relief in my voice, "then it's a telephone? You can't like...come out?"

"Sure I can," he said.

I buried my face in my hands. It allowed me a few seconds of time to think.

"But only 'cause I know your name," he said finally. I looked at him through my fingers. It was true; he DID know my name. And then the realization hit me and I gasped, horrified.

"Fuck," I said, "you've been watching me!"

"Ever since ya moved in."

"That's...that's such a...oh _god._"

"Don't ya wanna know my name?"

"Oh...you have a name?" I tried not to think about how many times I've been naked in this room, when coming out of the shower. How often I changed clothing right in front of the mirror.

"Sure do."

"What is then?"

"Can't tell ya!" he said almost cheerfully, "but you wanna play a game to figure it out?"

"Not really." I was still reeling.

"But I know yours," he said sinisterly, dropping his already grating voice a pitch lower, "and if its one thing ya don't want, it's a ghost knowin your name."

"You're a ghost? A real, live, 100 genuine ghost?"

"With the most." He frowned. "I'm a real, _dead_ ghost though."

"Oh God, I didn't summon you with the Ouija board did I? Is your name Pazuzu?"

He cackled hysterically, rocking back and forth.

"Not even close...'cept the 3 syllables though. See? That's a clue."

"Okay," I said numbly, "okay, I'm going to bed now."

"What?" he said with a sad look on his face, "already? But I just got here."

"Apparently, not."

"Yeah but...doncha wanna know my name?"

"No. Not if you're so insistent about it. It's probably a bad thing."

"It's the only way t'cancel out the curse on _your_ name though."

"You're lying."

"I never lie. Judy." With that, he stuck his hand out beyond the boundaries of the mirror and touched the eye shadow I had left out on the floor with the rest of my makeup that I was too lazy to put back neatly into the tackle box I had been using as a makeup case. The moment his finger hit the plastic, the powder melted and swirled. It actually changed color right before my eyes. White stripes slide along the plastic, continuing on to the powder. He removed his hand but the striped design stayed. I jumped up and backed away.

"So?" he asked, wiggling his fingers on the hand he had used to change the eye shadow next to his face, "ya better figure it out quick before I decide t'come over there and _make_ ya do it."

"Okay, alright," I said, feeling sick, "fine. What's your name?"

"I already told ya, can't tell. I give my name t'uh every Tom, Dick, and Harry, well then I would never have any fun." He grinned his hideous grin. "Get it?"

"Okay...game. What game?"

"Ha..." he hummed in thought, "how bout 20 Questions? Or, ya know...however many questions you need to say my name."

"Um...okay." I felt sick to my stomach. I tried to think of a good question but failed. The creature waited patiently.

"Is...is it a boy's name?"

He frowned at me, then narrowed his deep-set eyes.

"I'm not gonna take offense to that, because I've gathered that you ain't an Einstein. And also...eh...it's as _boy­ish_ as any name would be if, ya know, given to a _boy._" He spoke the word "boy" in a very clear, direct way, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Okay...so, uh...does it start with a G?"

"Uh...no."

"Okay...does it start with a...T?"

"This is gonna take a million years if ya don't start askin' some better questions, Judes."

His use of my name, even in his own little nicknamed way, gave me a little more incentive.

"Fine. Are you named after someone famous?"

"...not someone."

"Oh...something famous?"

He rolled his eyes again.

"Yes."

"Okay...was it an invention?"

"Naw."

"Was it...a discovery?"

"Uh...yes?" he frowned at me again. "These are kinda...no so relevant."

"No, I'm progressing here," I said quickly, "was it a mathematical discovery?"

"No."

"Was it a..." of course, it had to be something already existent...but not known till recent times. "Was it - "

"IS it," he corrected me, "It's pretty much still a name."

"Fine. Is it a scientific discovery?"

"Yeah...how many questions has that been? I lost count."

"Has it anything to do with gravity?"

"Uh...n-no..." he was unsure now. This was getting me nowhere.

"Fuck! Okay...okay...um..." I thought hard, but I distracted by his hands. He was keeping them limply on his knees. The tips of his fingers were a raw, red color, with a slight texture of...meat. The skin on the tips of his fingers was torn off.

A fresh wave of horror hit me like a friggin zamboni (that roller car thing they use to smooth the ice out in the skating rink) and I staggered back, tripping over my backpack and landing not-so-gracefully on a pile of school books. My mom always told me that my whole life was nothing but a messy room, and that's what would cause me trouble. I guess she was right. I felt the corner of a particularly heavy book stab my lower back.

"Whoa there," said the ghost, "that was really random...are you breathin'?"

I wasn't. The book I landed on had jabbed my back so hard, I was temporarily winded. I took a gasping breath and sat up, wincing when the injured muscle spasmed in a dull pain. I pulled the book out from under me. It was my astronomy text, and I had shifted the cover and torn the binding a little.

"Haha...good luck resellin' that," The ghost cackled, "but seriously...hit me with another question anytime."

"Hah..." I breathed stupidly, "uh...is your name something from...astronomy?"

"As a matter of fact...yeah," he laughed, "wow, that's some weird divine intervention crap."

"So your name isn't a conventional name?" I opened my book and checked the table of contents.

"Naw...I never met no one with the same name." I flipped to the glossary.

"Would I find your name in here?"

"Oh...probably."

"Okay..." I was still chilled by my realization about his hands, and was beginning to get a creepy crawly feeling about the coincidence of me landing on the one text, among the dozen or so scattered around my room, that would reveal his name.

I thought hard.

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Wha?" he gave me a very convincing look of confusion and innocence.

"Did you make me fall?"

"Did I make you _fall?_ Did ya see me trip ya?"

"Fine. Whatever. From the beginning then. Does your name start with an A?"

"No."

"B?"

"Yes," He said with satisfaction. "Finally."

"Okay...hold on..." I checked the glossary.

"Big bang?"

"Remember the 3 syllable rule?"

"Oh...Bok Globules?"

"Uh...what?" he shook his head as though clearing it, "what the hell are Bok Gobules?" he frowned. "Is that 3 syllables? Bok-Gob -"

"Bok-Glo-bules."

"N-no...wouldnt it be 'Bok-Glob-u-als'?"

"Does it matter? Is that your name?"

"No...no its not." He rubbed the bridge of what must have been a nose as some point but was now just a triangular hole in his face, complete with the septum dividing the two nostrils. I shivered, wondering if he felt anything with his torn fingers...and relieved when no blood stained his skin (whatever was left).

"Okay...so...B...3 syllables...fuck! is it a planet name?"

"No."

"No. But close. Oh so close..."

"Argh!"

"Ya have no idea how close you are, Judes..."

"Ah...Betelgeuse?"

The ghost jumped to his feet so eagerly that the mirror actually shook.

"Ya got it! What was that, like a million questions?"

"20," I said proudly, "if you don't count the ones about...you know...when I fell."


End file.
